


As in the Edda

by firefright



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Deception, Frenemies, Gen, M/M, One Count of Impersonation of a God, Slavery, Sort Of Fluff, Vikings, War Prize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23857498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: Dick really wishes Slade would stop dragging him into these schemes of his, even if they do come with some benefits to them.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 198
Collections: SladeRobin Weekend 2020





	As in the Edda

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This story is dedicated to the SladeRobin discord chat, who finally ~~enabled~~ encouraged me to write this idea out after I've had it in my head for literal years now. Like many people, I've been struggling with writing lately, and so it was great to finally finish something again. Plus, it also (vaguely) fits the 'War Prize' prompt for this weekend's SladeRobin event too, making it the second I've written for this day (the second is co-written with Skalidra and will be posted soon).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“You are unbelievable,” Dick mutters, as he looks around the long interior of the chieftain’s hall, “I can’t believe you’re making me do this with you. _Again_.”

Beside him, Slade looks completely relaxed and in his element. In one huge hand, he holds a cup of mead, in the other, a hunk of meat dripping with hot grease and crackling. The best portions of meat, in fact, from the roast boar currently cooking over the fire pit outside.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, kid,” he says calmly, whilst chewing, “I’m not doing anything.”

Dick turns his head back to glare at him. “Yes, you are. You know that perfectly well.”

Slade shrugs. He’s still wearing the great, grey furred cloak he uses for travelling in, and his white hair is coarsely brushed and loose against his neck. It’s a look that goes well alongside his close cropped beard, impressive physique and, most importantly, the missing eye on his right side. He’s not wearing his hat at the moment, but he has kept on his leather vambraces, inscribed with wolves, as well as the ash wood quarter-staff by his side. “We walked in, these people made an assumption. That’s all.”

“Which you didn’t argue.” Dick says, refusing to relent. “You’re taking advantage of them, just like you did the last three villages.”

“That’s because there is nothing to argue.” Slade takes another bite of his meat, before setting it down on his plate. “They haven’t said anything to my face, how am I supposed to know what they’re thinking? If they say something, I’ll say something back. Otherwise, why not enjoy what we’re being given?”

“Because it’s wrong, Slade. We’re taking resources these people may need for themselves. We…” Dick shuts his mouth as a blonde-haired woman appears at their table, smiling broadly and bowing low to show off her considerable cleavage as she offers them refills of their drinks from the large pitcher in her hands.

Dick shakes his head, but Slade accepts with a grin, freely allowing his eye to roam. Dick wonders if he actually means that interest and will do anything about it, or — like the last time — leave every shieldmaiden vying for his attention disappointed.

When she’s moved on, Slade turns back to look at him. The heat in his gaze much the same now as it was for the woman. “I don’t see you going up and correcting them yourself, boy. Funny that you expect me to do what you won’t yourself.”

Dick feels his face flush hot, but remains resolute. “Because they wouldn’t believe _me_. I’m just your indentured slave, remember? Your ‘humble’ servant. They’d assume I was trying to undermine you, or deliberately mislead them on your behalf.”

“As they would most likely assume I was lying to them if _I_ tried.” Placing his cup down, Slade reaches out and brushes a lock of Dick’s hair back from his face. “You are far too uptight for someone getting a free meal and bed for the night.”

“Hardly free.” Dick mutters, because nothing’s free when you wear a collar around your throat. “I just don’t like lying to people, even by omission. Especially when you do everything in your power to encourage their mistake.”

“Do I now?”

As he says it, Slade’s fingers slide against the raven’s feathers he’d woven into Dick hair the first day after he won him. It’s entirely on purpose, of course, and Dick grits his teeth against the touch.

“ _Yes_. The way you dress, that staff you carry. The fact you make me wear these _things_ in my hair.” His voice takes on a mocking tone. “How could any self-respecting Norseman not take the belief that the great Odin himself has walked into his home when you appear looking that way?”

Slade chuckles, “You know, most other people wouldn’t let their slave mouth off to them like this.”

“Lucky for me, then, that you happen to like my mouth.”

“Oh yes,” Slade’s smile turns sharper, and he tugs lightly on the lock of Dick’s hair. “In more ways than one. But again, boy, regardless of how I may or may not choose to present both myself and you, I’m not making people believe anything. They see what they want to see, that’s all.”

“While you reap the benefit.”

“While we _both_ do. This is a mutually beneficial relationship after all. That’s more than most people in your position can claim.”

Dick snorts softly. “You say that like I have any choice in it.”

“Would you rather be sleeping out on the side of the road and eating salt fish and stale bread again?”

“Yes! I mean…” He quickly lowers his voice, “No, of course not. But you could just pay them for their hospitality instead. Or, you know, be _honest_.”

“I make it my business not to pay for anything I can get for free.” With a gentle push, Slade releases Dick’s hair and picks up his mead again. “No one is getting hurt here, boy. You and I have hot food and a bed for the night, while these people feel vindicated in their faith. I know it's hard for you, but do try not to overthink it.”

“I’m not _over_ thinking it. I’m doing the exact opposite of that.” Dick mutters, before leaning back in his seat. “I can’t believe this is my life now, playing assistant to the world’s greatest charlatan.”

Slade laughs, “Maybe next time you’ll think better before challenging the biggest warrior on the battlefield.”

“You were _attacking_ our home.”

“So? There were plenty of other men there you could have fought.”

“No other that the rest of your forces would have paid attention to if he’d fallen.”

Slade’s smile takes on another angle, this one smug and catlike pleased with himself. Just like the god he pretends to be, the man has ego in spades. “True enough. But anyway, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it? Your family lives, and so do you.”

“In exchange for five years of my life in your service, yes.” Dick sighs. This is an old conversation, one Slade sees fit to bring up every time Dick tries to complain about their current lifestyle.

“And can you really say the year you’ve spent in my company so far has been that terrible?”

No, Dick can’t, because while being with Slade in the first place was the result of him being presented with an impossible choice at the end of a sword blade, everything since then has been… well, surprisingly comfortable.

Slade doesn’t beat him, doesn't hurt him, but instead, seems to look upon Dick like some kind of pet project in the making. Instead of chores and being worked to the bone in a field or mine, or at the oars of a ship, he’s been offered training, _learning_. Sure, Slade will happily knock him into the dirt when they spar, but nothing worse than that. In fact, the worst thing he has been told to do so far is what’s happening right now: lying by omission so that the pair of them can get a free ride for the night, and even that feels like it’s meant to be a lesson in survival more than anything.

If he didn’t know any better, especially after visiting Slade’s home village with his grumpy best friend, bitter ex-wife, gentle son and exuberant young daughter, Dick would almost be tempted to say the man was lonely, and that was what spurred him to take Dick on, more than anything else. Then of course there was the flirting, constant but never pressing, up until the point when, eight months after his capture, Dick finally gave in and reciprocated his interest.

(The man was handsome, all right? And charming when he wanted to be. And maybe, just maybe, Dick was starting to feel terribly lonely after so much time away from his family, too.)

Coming back to the present, he begrudgingly sighs, “Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to?”

“Because I enjoy hearing you say that I’m right, of course.” Slade replies, without a hint of shame. Under the table, his hand finds Dick’s thigh and squeezes it hard. “You’re far too young to be so serious all the time, you know.”

“And you’re far too old to be so flippant.” Dick grumbles. He can feel his cheeks warming at the intimate gesture, especially as Slade’s hand creeps slowly higher. “Stop that, people are watching.”

“They can’t see under the table.”

“Maybe not, but they will see me punch you in the face in a second if you don’t. This scheme of yours won’t hold up long after that.”

Slade chuckles again, before removing his hand. “Fair enough. Some day, though, kid, you’re going to come around to my way of thinking. Just wait and see.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Excuse me.” a fair voice pulls their attention away from their bickering, and Dick looks alongside Slade to see the chief’s daughter watching them with an attempted serious, but still flustered expression on her face. “My father would like to speak with you, Slade.” Her eyes dart briefly to Dick. “Alone. When you are ready.”

She’s beautiful too, Dick thinks, with long dark braids and a trim but powerful figure beneath the expensive wools and furs that she wears. But though Slade eyes her appreciatively, it’s still to Dick that he turns and winks after standing up. “I won’t be long, kid. Try and eat something, or at least enjoy the mead while I’m gone.”

It seems like the shieldmaidens of this village will be going disappointed tonight, after all.

Settling back in his seat, Dick resignedly picks up his cup and sips at it while Slade heads up to where the village chief and his wife sit at their own table, sure to speak with words just vague and layered enough to keep their suspicions over his true identity high without ever really confirming anything. In that way, he really is like Odin, a canny trickster just as much as a king, who can give even the famed Loki a run for his money when it comes to ploys and duplicity.

If he didn’t know any better, or was any more given to flights of fancy, Dick might actually be tempted to buy into the deception himself. 

Maybe.

As it is, he enjoys the next hour or so in peace, eating, drinking, and smiling politely at those who approach him, as well as making silly faces at the children who more openly stare at the raven’s feathers in his hair. And when Slade does eventually return to their table, Dick allows him to take him by the hand and lead the way to the luxurious guest room they’ve been given for the night with only minimal complaint.

Because, while he may never admit it to Slade’s face, the man is right. There are some benefits to this charade he puts on, and a sturdy bed frame and mattress is one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pandomanda)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Place in Valhalla](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993992) by [Lady_Paper_Writerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Paper_Writerson/pseuds/Lady_Paper_Writerson)




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